


Zero

by Isagel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Caning, Dom/sub, Dominance, Held Down, Military Fetish, Multi, Polyamory, Submission, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isagel/pseuds/Isagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yes, ma'am, please,” he says. It makes his dick harder, to beg for it, to address her like that, like a superior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theleaveswant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/gifts).



> For theleaveswant, who asked for kinky times and the prompt word "count".

“Yeah, that's it,” Clint says. “Give me your hands.”

Steve stretches out a little further along the kitchen table, bending a little deeper at the waist. Like this, his feet are just barely resting on the floor, his bare chest pressed against the table top, his arms reaching above his head almost to the other end, where Clint is.

He imagines if it were someone else, they'd be standing in front of him, but Clint is crouching on the seat of a kitchen chair, comfortably balanced. When he takes Steve's wrists, it's from above, leaning his weight down onto them. It would still be easy for Steve to get free, if he wanted to, but the amount of pressure is grounding, steadying. He closes his eyes and lets his head drop, his forehead against the cool wood between his arms.

Behind him, he hears Natasha moving – because she lets him, he realizes, because she doesn't want him to spook. From her, the simple kindness of that makes him want to arch his back and purr, give up everything she might ever want from him. She steps in close, lays her hand on the back of his neck.

“Tell me the rules again,” she says.

“Red for stop,” Steve recites. “Yellow for wait. Green for keep going.” He licks at his lips. “Everything is really, really green right now, Nat. Could you please...? Could you?”

“I could,” Natasha says, and she sounds amused, pleased. Her hand slides down over his back, following the lines of his body, tracing the rises and dips of muscle as she moves back to stand behind him, her palm stroking over the curve of his bottom. “You're pretty like this, aren't you, Captain? So eager to bend over and take it.”

A hint of nails, at the sensitive place where his thigh starts.

He pulls in a sharp breath, shuddering.

“Yes, ma'am, please,” he says. It makes his dick harder, to beg for it, to address her like that, like a superior.

He wants to serve. He's always wanted to serve.

For a long, sweet moment, her nails dig in harder, a warm flare of pain. Rewarding. It's over too soon.

He makes a small sound at the loss when she lets go. Needy.

“Don't worry, Cap,” Clint says. “She's great at this, I told you. I know your limits are insane, but she'll take you all the way and then some.” He squeezes Steve's wrists. “Trust me.”

Natasha's hands are gone, but then there is something else instead. Something narrow and hard, resting across his buttocks.

The cane.

His whole body shivers, anticipation and adrenaline.

“And when she's done,” Clint starts. And stops. “Hey, look at me, soldier!” The clip of his voice makes Steve ache to stand at attention, but instead he does the closest thing he can and snaps his head up. Clint has leaned down, his face almost at Steve's eye-level. “When she's done, I'm going to slick up whatever's left of your tight little ass and fuck you until you're as raw on the inside as you are on the outside, and you're gonna thank me for every time I let you come.”

Steve's cock jerks, helplessly. He feels weightless, suspended, held up only by the piercing look in Clint's eyes, the press of Natasha's cane against his backside.

“Please, sir,” he says, and it's almost a whine, his desperation clear. It feels so good.

Clint's thumb rubs at his forearm, reassuring. Possessive.

“Count them out for me, Clint,” Natasha says. “I want to know exactly how many stripes the super-soldier can take.”

She pulls the cane back.

Steve tenses, waiting, his breathing caught on an exhale.

The two of them are the only things holding him up. He knows he isn't going to fall.

The cane rushes towards him, loud in the air.

“One,” Clint says.

The pain is the burst of a grenade.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Zero (podfic)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/492258) by [susan_voight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/susan_voight/pseuds/susan_voight)




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